


Fell For You

by sadsongssaysomuch



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Eggnog, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsongssaysomuch/pseuds/sadsongssaysomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve have always been best friends, but on Christmas Eve, Bucky wakes up to realize that the way he feels about Steve is more than just friendly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fell For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacebuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/gifts).



> For the 2014 Stucky Secret Santa Exchange! 
> 
> Title (and inspiration) from Green Day’s “Fell For You”:
> 
> I had a dream that I kissed your lips  
> And it felt so true  
> Then I woke up as a nervous wreck  
> And I fell for you
> 
> I'll spend the night, living in denial  
> Making paper planes, just for a while  
> 

In the back of his mind, Bucky had always known. But it wasn’t until he woke up at two in the morning on Christmas Eve, covered in sweat, with his heart racing a mile a minute that he admitted it to himself. He was in love with Steve Rogers.

He couldn’t go back to sleep after that. Not after dreaming that he had kissed Steve. Not just a friendly kiss either. No, Bucky had dreamed that he had kissed Steve’s lips and it had been amazing, which is why he woke up with the most uncomfortable erection he’d had in a long time. Steve was his best friend. He couldn’t be attracted to Steve... only _he was_.

Bucky took a few moments to collect his thoughts and get his breathing under control. He slid out of bed and pattered across the floor to sit at his desk. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, not now. Not with the image of Steve’s lips in his mind, with the sensation of kissing Steve so fresh in his imagination. He settled for making paper airplanes out of the stack of papers on his desk and watching as they all failed to fly miserably.

It was a stupid way to pass a few hours, sure, but it was Christmas Eve and he always spent Christmas Eve with Steve. It had started as a tradition when they were kids, their families had brought them together, and as they’d gotten older and moved away from home to go to college, they’d continued it. So now, he had a whole evening alone with Steve to look forward to. Normally a great thing, but how was he supposed to hang out with his best friend now that he couldn’t deny he was in love with him. In short, Bucky was a nervous wreck.

When he’d used up all the paper from the top of his desk and the room was littered with crashed planes, Bucky decided it was time to properly start the day. He’d need a lot of coffee. He wasn’t supposed to go over to Steve’s house until afternoon. That should give him plenty of time to get his dream of kissing Steve out of his system.

* * * *

At three-thirty, Bucky was standing in front of Steve’s apartment door feeling just as nervous as when he’d woken up. Only now, he was jittery from caffeine too. He raised a fist and knocked, waiting for Steve to let him in.

The door swung open and there was Steve, all six-foot-two of him dressed in jeans and… a tacky Christmas sweater. “Bucky! Merry Christmas!” Steve pulled Bucky into one of his crushing hugs and Bucky willed his heart to stay inside his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” he said as he stepped back from Steve’s hug.  “Nice sweater. Reindeer. Classy.”

“Thanks,” Steve said with a grin. “I knew you’d appreciate it.” He smiled again and then seemed to realize Bucky was still standing in the hallway. “Come in, come in,” Steve ushered him inside, closing the door behind them.

Bucky whistled. “Wow, Steve. You went all out on the Christmas decorations this year,” Bucky said with a laugh. Steve’s apartment gave no sign that it was Christmas Eve except for two Christmas stockings hanging off the edge of the kitchen counter, one that read ‘Steve’ the other ‘Bucky’ and a small tree in the corner by the television.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Steve said with a shrug.”You’re usually not big on all the Christmassy stuff.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You sure you still want to hang out tonight?” Bucky half hoped that Steve would say he wanted to cancel so he could go home.

“Nah! Of course not, how could I break our Christmas Eve tradition! Besides, I already got the pizza.”

Bucky took off his coat and handed it to Steve who hung it in the closet. “You ready to watch _It’s A Wonderful Life_?” he asked. Their Christmas Eve tradition consisted of watching movies and eating pizza, a holdover from their childhood when their parents would put a movie on for the boys and feed them pizza so they could talk about whatever it was adults talked about without interruption.

Steve started the movie and the settled onto the couch. Bucky made sure to keep as much distance between himself and Steve as he could, but Steve’s couch wasn’t that big. He could still smell Steve’s apple scented shampoo and with his long legs propped up on the coffee table, a plateful of pizza in his hand, Steve looked happy, relaxed, and disarmingly handsome.

“Would you save me if I fell through the ice like that?” Steve asked through a mouthful of pizza.

Bucky groaned, “Please. You’ve asked me that same question every year since we started watching this movie on Christmas Eve when we were what, eight? And haven’t I always answered the same thing?”

“I know, Buck, I know. I just like hearing you say it,” Steve teased, flashing Bucky a perfect grin.

“Yes. Steve, I’d save you if you fell through the ice,” Bucky answered. And it was the truth. He’d always watched out for Steve when they were kids and now that they were older and he didn’t need to, well, he’d still sacrifice his hearing or whatever else to save Steve.

Their conversation gave way to the steady and determined consumption of pizza as the movie played. Bucky sat stock-still on the couch, keeping his eyes glued to the screen but occasionally he darted a glance at Steve.

When the first movie ended, Steve got up to put a second one in. He walked back over to the couch, flopping down next to Bucky. All of Bucky’s careful distancing was gone because Steve had managed to sit so close that their shoulders were touching.

Bucky tried not to tense up as Steve’s shoulders brushed his, warmth spreading through him at the contact. He was pretty sure he was blushing too. He squirmed to try to put a little distance between them but it was no use. He was stuck between the arm of the couch and the solid mass of Steve Rogers.

Steve looked at Bucky, smiling as he pressed play on the remote. “Ready?” he asked and then turned his attention to the movie.

Bucky smiled back a second too late. “Yeah, Steve, I’m ready,” he said, his voice cracking embarrassingly. He cleared his throat and then turned his attention to the movie too, willing his body to calm down. _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ was usually one of his favorites of the night. He could quote every line the Grinch said and usually did. Not tonight though, with Steve so close and the thought of kissing him swirling through his brain, Bucky barely knew what was happening on screen. It was so hard to sit there, to be that close to Steve and not kiss him.

Somehow, he made it through the Grinch and the next movie, _White Christmas_ , but Bucky had to spend most of his time focusing on keeping his breathing even and keeping his hand from wandering over to touch Steve. When _White Christmas_ ended, Bucky jumped up. He couldn’t take sitting through another movie with Steve so close to him.

“You going somewhere Bucky?” Steve asked, looking up at him in surprise.

“Sorry, yeah. I just realized that I should probably get going. It’s pretty late and all.”

Steve blinked. “Oh, sure. Right.” He got up from the couch and stretched. “I’ll get your coat for you.” Steve crossed the apartment to get Bucky’s coat, glancing outside as he returned from the closet. “That’s quite a storm blowing up,” he said. “It’s pretty nasty out there, maybe you should stay.”

“I don’t really think that’s such a good idea,” Bucky protested. His brain told him he shouldn’t, but the rest of him…

“C’mon,” Steve urged. “It’s _cold_ outside; I’ll even turn on the fireplace.” He walked across the small living room, flicked a switch beside the fireplace and a warm yellow blaze suddenly appeared. “Not quite the same as a real fire, but it’s the best I got.” He smiled at Bucky warmly and Bucky couldn’t tamp down the flutter in his stomach. “See, cozy.”

 “It is, it’s… very cozy,” Bucky had to agree, “But Steve, I really shouldn’t stay.” He didn’t want Steve to ask why. Normally it wouldn’t even be an issue, he’d spent dozens of nights at Steve’s apartment, just as Steve had often spend the night at his place.

“C’mon, at least have a glass of eggnog with me before you go.”  Bucky was planning to walk home, so even though he knew Steve’s eggnog had quite the kick, it wasn’t like he’d needed to worry about driving.

Steve poured two glasses and handed one to Bucky. When Steve handed him the glass, Bucky felt Steve’s fingers brush his own. It had almost seemed deliberate, but Bucky was sure he was imagining things.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay and watch _A Christmas Story_ again?” Steve asked with an impish grin that lit up his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Uh, well...” Bucky delayed answering Steve to take a sip of the eggnog. An explosion of spices burst over his tongue and Bucky stared at it in surprise. “What’s in this?”

Steve shrugged. “Oh you know, my mom’s secret recipe. Plus really good rum.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Bucky said, taking another sip.

Steve took a swig from his own glass. “So, the movie?”

* * * *

Bucky made a mental note never to call Steve a lightweight.

By the time the movie was over and Ralphie had received the best present he ever had or ever would receive, Bucky was on his third glass of eggnog and already well on his way to hammered. Steve was keeping pace, too, but unlike him, he didn’t seem to be even the least bit tipsy.

"Might want to slow down, Bucky," Steve said with a laugh, even as he poured a large amount of the spiked eggnog into his own glass.

There was a second bottle keeping cold in the refrigerator, so Bucky knew Steve wasn't overly concerned about running out.

"M'fine, Steve." Bucky grinned and shrugged, tilting his glass back smoothly to swallow the last mouthful. "I'm a professional."

Steve laughed loudly at that, swirling his glass and taking another couple swallows. “Professional alcoholic. That’s great, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I make a habit of getting drunk on every holiday. Just the important ones.” Bucky laughed a little too loudly at his own dumb joke. “Hey, Steve. Why don’t you turn on some Christmas music?”

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Really Bucky? Do I have to?” But he smiled and got up anyway, turning on the radio. The station was playing commercial free Christmas music and their choices ranged from things like Bing Crosby crooning _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ to…

“Steve, what _is_ this song?” Bucky protested, covering his ears.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard _Dominic the Christmas Donkey_?” Steve said. He looked entirely serious and Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of the song playing on the radio.

“Dominic the what?”

“Christmas Donkey,” Steve said. “It’s a great song, don’t knock it!” He sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter and Bucky came to stand on the opposite side of the counter, still trying to maintain a safe distance.

Bucky raised his glass and took several large gulps before setting it back down, making a face and giving his head a little shake. “Wow, Steve I had no idea you had such bad taste in Christmas music.” He gave a low whistle before looking back up at Steve, a little unnerved to find his friend watching him intently. Bucky raised his eyebrows at him, before prompting him, “What?”

“Nothing Bucky, never mind.” Steve laughed before returning his eyes to his own glass, swirling it again before downing the last two swallows, then pouring himself another.

“Steve, come on, tell me?” Bucky egged him, taking another drink himself, and yup, he was definitely hammered now.

“It’s just-” Steve said hesitatingly, clenching his jaw and staring intently into his glass before continuing, “I dunno Bucky, here we are on Christmas Eve. Doing the same thing we always do. Don’t you get a little bored?”

“Well, you’re just full of good cheer, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, draining his glass and setting it down clumsily. “You don’t like spending Christmas Eve with me?” He bit his tongue, wanting to say more, wanting to tell Steve how he really felt. Of course he wasn’t bored.

Steve refilled Bucky’s glass without being asked, dumping the rest of the eggnog into it before getting up, a little unsteadily, and going to the fridge to retrieve the second bottle. “No. Of course I do. I just… I guess I was asking because you seemed a little unhappy to be here tonight,” Steve mused, topping off his own glass with more rum and eggnog, “I thought maybe you had someplace you’d rather be. Someone you’d rather be with.”

Bucky suddenly wished he hadn’t agreed to drink with Steve. It would have been too easy to tell Steve exactly what was on his mind with the way the alcohol had loosened his tongue, but then where would he be? “Steve, there’s no place else I’d rather be,” Bucky finally told him, taking a long swallow.

“You sure about that Bucky?” Steve said, sounding frustrated, “Here we are getting drunk on eggnog and watching _It’s A Wonderful Life_ and for what?”

“Are you trying to say _you’d_ rather be somewhere else?” Bucky asked, hurt and jealousy burning in his chest at the thought of Steve wishing he was with someone else. He looked away from Steve, taking a long drag from his glass. When it was drained, he lowered it slowly, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth before reaching for the bottle of eggnog, filling his glass again before gulping it down. “Rather be with someone else?”

“No. To both,” Steve said quietly after a moment, and Bucky’s eyes were drawn to Steve’s face, where his friend was looking at him in a way that he wasn’t sober enough to examine too closely.

Then Steve gave a small laugh, reached for the eggnog and copied Bucky, pouring it into his glass and drinking it in one gulp, “You never answered if you’d rather be with someone else. Would you, Bucky?”

“What?” Bucky asked stupidly, unable to stop himself.

“Would you rather be spending Christmas Eve with someone else?” Steve asked, his blue eyes searching Bucky’s face.

 “Shut up, Steve,” Bucky finally forced out, pouring another drink and knocking it back. “You’re crazy if you think I would rather spend Christmas Eve with _anyone_ besides my best friend.”

Steve swallowed hard, “Thanks, Bucky. I’m glad you’re here with me. I wouldn’t want to be spending the night with anyone else either.”

Bucky was definitely drunk, because he didn’t know how his unsteady legs were even working. He leaned hard on the counter as he slid around to Steve’s side and took Steve’s face in his hands.

“Steve,” he said seriously, looking into Steve’s gorgeous eyes, “You’re my best friend and I love you.”

“I know,” Steve whispered, reaching up to grasp Bucky’s forearms in a tight grip, “You’re _my_ best friend and I love you too.”

It took a moment for Steve’s words to sink in, and to Bucky’s rum soaked brain, the distinction between ‘I love you, you’re my best friend’ and ‘I love you’ was blurry. Before Steve had time to say anything else and before he had time to change his mind, Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s in a hard, distraught kiss that was sloppy and desperate and nothing like his dream. But at the same time it was everything he’d been dreaming of.

It wasn’t until Steve was kissing him back with a whimper, hands moving to the back of Bucky’s head, that the reality of the situation hit him.

He immediately tried to pull back, a stammered apology halfway formed on his lips before Steve reeled him back in, slotting their mouths together firmly.

His knees nearly buckled when Steve pushed his tongue between Bucky’s lips, licking into his mouth so sweetly he couldn’t help the breathless moan that escaped. Even though they both tasted like eggnog and spiced rum, it didn’t seem to matter because it was the most gorgeous kiss of his life because it was  _Steve_.

Steve broke the kiss with a rush of breath, panting in the space between their mouths. His breaths followed the same staccato rhythm as Bucky’s shuddering lungs, and Steve’s hand still pressed tight against the back of Bucky’s head, keeping him in place.

“God, Stevie, Steve… I’m so in love with you,” Bucky suddenly confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush, then froze, shock and fear pouring from his body so hard it hurt.

Steve was just a blond-haired, blue-eyed blur in his vision, and Bucky had never thought that saying those eight words could have made his heart stop in his chest and send a sucker-punch feeling right to his stomach.

“ _Oh god_ ,” Bucky whispered, instantly regretful, “Oh god. Steve. I’m sorry, I—”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything else to say, the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest was all he could concentrate on. He closed his eyes and only opened them when Steve’s lips crashed into his in an ungraceful clash of teeth and tongue.

Suddenly he was tipping forward, surprised to find that Steve’s hands had moved to his hips and were tugging him close, pulling him in to straddle Steve’s thighs and it was so hot that for a second Bucky wondered if the fireplace had malfunctioned.

“Steve,” he whispered desperately against Steve’s mouth, still cradling his best friend’s strong jaw.

Steve whimpered, wrapping his arms around Bucky and pulling them tight together. “Tell me you want this,” Steve whispered back anxiously, trembling under Bucky and it was Bucky’s turn to whimper, pressing his lips back to Steve’s with fervor.

Steve pressed up into him; the slick slide of his tongue against Bucky’s making him so hard, so fast that it left him dizzy.

“Bucky, please. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. _Please_ ,” Steve begged, suddenly wedging a hand between their chests and pushing Bucky back slightly, looking at him from the few inches away. “Please, tell me.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky slurred, lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss, “Of course. I’ve been wanting to tell you that I love you all day. Wanting to kiss you, to touch you. Steve, you’re everything.”

“There needs to be less clothes. Right now,” Steve demanded, shoving his hands under Bucky’s shirt and beginning to push it over his head.

Bucky leaned back, raising his arms up into the air. Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt a little too forcefully, nearly making him lose his balance as Steve pulled it over his head. He smacked one hand onto the counter to keep from tipping over.

_I am way too fucking drunk for sex on a bar stool_ , Bucky thought wildly, heart pounding as he grabbed Steve’s shoulders for balance. It was hard to form words with Steve already mouthing a hot trail of kisses down his neck.

“Bed,” Bucky murmured, Steve’s nibbles across his clavicle almost making him incoherent, “ _Bed_ , Steve.” He wanted Steve, that was undeniable, be he didn’t want their first time together to end with one of them falling off the stool and breaking a bone.

Steve nodded and grinned, scooping Bucky up like a baby and standing suddenly.

Bucky clung tightly to Steve, the sudden change in elevation making him a little dizzy, and Steve too, apparently, because he didn’t walk to the bedroom so much as stagger to it. Steve stumbled towards the bed, tossing Bucky onto the mattress and then landing hard and heavy on top of him.

He couldn’t have complained even if he wanted to, because Steve chose that moment to occupy Bucky’s mouth with his tongue instead. Bucky moaned, sucking on it, grinding his hips against Steve desperately.

Steve’s palmed Bucky’s ass, rocking them together, and Bucky groaned, tugging up Steve’s sweater to touch his bare skin.

Steve seemed completely unwilling to let go of Bucky long enough for Bucky to pull the sweater over his head, so Bucky settled for bunching it up under Steve’s arms instead, tracing Steve’s chest reverently.

“Steve,” he gasped, the hard friction of his dick against his zipper causing him more frustration than anything, “ _Please_. I need you to touch me.”

Steve groaned at that, licking a hot stripe up the side Bucky’s neck that made his whole body throb, “Yeah, Bucky. I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time.”

Steve’s hands slid out from under him and Bucky pushed up, putting enough space between them to grab the collar of Steve’s sweater and pull it off over his head, throwing it to the floor while Steve worked their zippers, the buttons flying open as quick as he could make it happen.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Steve panted, openly staring at Bucky’s cock, lying flushed and rigid against his stomach as Bucky worked on Steve’s pants, finally getting them open and sliding his hand inside.

“Nothing compared to you, Steve,” he marveled, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s cock, making Steve’s hips stutter into his touch, a gasp slipping from his lips.

“ _Jesus_ , Bucky,” Steve panted, and Bucky watched with absolute rapt attention at the way Steve’s face went slack with lust when he ran a finger along the vein pulsing along the length of his cock.

Bucky’s vision went white around the edges as Steve suddenly dropped down, kissing him hard and sliding his hands under him, rolling them over so Bucky was on top, straddling his hips and his hands on Steve’s wide shoulders for balance.

“I wanna see you,” Steve breathed, palming Bucky’s ass with one hand as the other guided his hips, lining them up so Steve could grip him firmly.

“Oh god, Steve…” Bucky gritted out, thrusting helplessly into the tight clench of Steve’s fist, making Steve draw out a groan. He leaned down, licking and kissing as much of Steve’s chest as he could reach with a focused intensity.

Part of Bucky knew it was ridiculous. Their clothes weren’t even completely off, they were rutting together with hardly enough slide to make it good, they both tasted of rum and eggnog and the room was filled with their loud breathing. But god, it was _good_ , it couldn’t be anything else with the rough slide of skin against skin and the slick sheen of sweat that covered them.

“S-Steve,” Bucky stuttered, his hips pumping harder as he felt the beginning of his orgasm building at the base of his spine, staring at Steve’s pleasure-lined face.

“Bucky,” Steve panted, twisting his wrist and palming over the heads of their cocks, and Bucky felt electric shocks of pleasure shooting up his spine. The sensation was so good it made his eyes roll up into his head, both of them leaning into the final rough jerks that would send them over the edge.

Bucky cried out as he finally came, arching his back, and Steve groaned, following him seconds later, their joined come coating Steve’s abdomen messily.  
  
Bucky collapsed forward, the room spinning from lack of oxygen or the spiked eggnog—probably both—and Steve took his weight easily, the hand not covered in come rubbing gently up his back.

The only sound in the room was the low sound of Christmas music on the radio and their heavy breathing, and for a moment, it felt surreal.

Steve rolled them onto their sides, hand still stroking Bucky’s back as he leaned in for a kiss, this one so gentle and sweet that it took Bucky’s breath away all over again.

“I love you, Steve,” he whispered, so softly he wasn’t sure if Steve had heard him.

“Love you, Bucky” Steve echoed, which was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

* * * *

Bucky wanted to die. He didn’t even want to use the brain cells necessary to compare the pounding in his head to anything. And he certainly didn’t want to think about what he’d said or done with Steve.

The Christmas music was still playing on the radio in the living room. The sound that had been a pleasant distraction in the background last night was now only serving to make the pounding in his head worse. Bucky tried to find the strength to move from his sprawled out position, where he was lying on his stomach across the bed so he could turn the damn thing off.

He rolled over tentatively, cracking his eyes open and ignoring the pain that shot through his skull. The broad shape of Steve’s back was only inches from his face and Bucky froze, moving cautiously to try and not wake Steve up.

It didn’t work because a few seconds later, while he was still trying to inch away, Steve rolled over next to him, coming awake slowly. “Never again,” he heard Steve moan, “Never getting that drunk again.”

“Famous last words,” Bucky managed to rasp out, looking anywhere but at Steve, He heard Steve give a breathless laugh in agreement. It wasn’t the first time they’d gotten drunk together, but it was sure as hell the first time they’d ever done all of the other things they’d done last night.

There were a few quiet moments, the only sound Bucky could hear was his own heartbeat in his head and the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing beside him. Just as Bucky was gearing up to force himself out of bed and away from the situation, Steve laid a gentle hand on his back.

Steve swallowed. “Still remember last night, Buck?”

Bucky forced himself to look at Steve, really look at him. Steve’s face was soft with sleep and hangover, he looked tired and sick, but Steve was still looking at him fondness. There was sadness behind Steve’s small smile and Bucky suddenly realized what he was doing. He was giving Bucky a way out. All Bucky had to do was feign ignorance, say that last night was a blur, and they could forget anything had ever happened. Steve was trying to give him an opportunity to take back the words he had said, the things they had done and it almost seemed like he was bracing himself for what the way he clearly believed Bucky would react.

“I still remember,” Bucky said, and his heart fluttered to see the relief flood Steve’s eyes.

Steve’s smile grew and his touch became less tentative, his hand running up and down Bucky’s back gently.

“Good,” Steve answered in a small voice, “I love you, Bucky,” he added, swallowing hard.

 Bucky couldn’t help the way his eyes slid closed again, enjoying Steve’s soft touch even though he felt miserable. It was going to be a long, painful Christmas Day, but knowing that Steve shared his feelings was the best present he could have asked for. “I love you too, Steve,” Bucky said softly, reaching out to smooth Steve’s hair back. He pressed a small kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
